


Friends with Benefits

by Beatsonlyforyou



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 15:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7320343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beatsonlyforyou/pseuds/Beatsonlyforyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione and Draco find themselves in a Friends with Benefits situation. </p><p>I ignored his blatant arrogance and processed his statements. “Well, it can’t happen again.”</p><p>“Why ever not?”</p><p>“Because we’re not in a relationship.”</p><p>“Psht, who needs relationships? We can shag without the label.”</p><p>“You mean like…friends with benefits?” I asked with slight embarrassment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends with Benefits

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on Fanfiction and thought I would post it here as well. Enjoy!

I wake up to a blinding light—I really need to start remembering to close the curtains before I go out drinking with the gang. Sunlight is never good for tequila-induced hangovers. I throw my arm over my stinging eyes and turn away from the morning light; my slight movement causes an arm that definitely does not belong to me to pull me closer to a warm body that is definitely not mine. And even with my hangover brain, I instantly know who it is.

“Oh, not again!” I loudly exclaim, throwing the offending arm off my body, and instantly regret the fast action when my whole body screams in protest. 

Draco grumbles loudly as he snakes his arm back around me so he can nestle his face into my unmanageable I’ve-just-been-shagged-by-Draco-Malfoy-who-has-a-hair-fetish bird’s nest. “Bloody hell, Hermione! It’s not even eight in the morning! Can’t you save your tirade about how irresponsible we are for a more decent hour?”

I push him off of me completely and grab my threadbare sheets to cover my nakedness so I can make my walk of shame to the bathroom. “When I’m done using the loo, you better be dressed Malfoy.”

Even with his hangover (I mean, I’m guessing he has a hangover since we knocked back a ot of tequila shots last night—damn you, you delicious Muggle drink), he still manages to pull off his sexy signature smirk. “Okay, Granger,” he emphasizes my last name with a roll of the eyes. “Its not like you haven’t seen my naked body before.”

Despite the truth of that statement, my face heats up with a blush. “Just get dressed.”

In the bathroom, I’m free to have my usual post-shag freak out. My time to think about what led to that moment where I decided it was a good idea to sleep with my best friend…

(Flashback)

It all started at Finnegan’s. After the war, everyone had to figure out a way to cope with their grief. People sought the help from counselors and psychiatrists because they needed to talk about the horrors instead of bottling it up inside. George Weasley was one of these people, because the loss of his twin almost caused him to end his own life and counseling became mandatory and eventually voluntary. Instead of continuing on with the joke shop, he closed up the store and, to everyone’s shock and amazement that he could actually do something serious, started a department in the Ministry for counseling services for the war survivors.

Other people left the continent completely—despite the rebuilding, Europe still held terrible memories that they couldn’t get past. The Patil twins keep everyone updated with their adventures in the world of divination in America through Muggle postcards.

Seamus Finnegan, with the help of his friend and eventual partner Dean Thomas, opened up a bar. This stereotypical Irish man business venture served as a safe place for those that needed to drink away their pain. There is a statute of secrecy on the place so that anyone who walks in the doors of Finnegan’s do not need to worry about the events that happen every night getting into the Daily Prophet the next morning.

This is where Harry, Ron, Ginny, and I found our peace and our rescue. By day we were the cheerful people that we had to pretend to be as we made our speeches and accepted our awards for our service and accomplishments; by night, we were allowed to grieve and slowly become the new people that we were becoming. Harry and Ginny married right after the war, so their new formed personalities were formed together—in a good way of course. Ginny was able to keep Harry grounded as interviews and press releases stirred up memories that were painful. Ginny’s wild side was tamed due to Harry’s calming presence and his unwillingness to be in the limelight more than he needed to.

Ron joined the Chudley Cannons as their new Keeper, so his newfound personality was arrogant and flirty—the way he was with Lavender times thirty. This quickly caused the end of our short relationship. I was not the kind of girl that was up for the open relationship he wanted us to have. Shocker there.

And what happened to me? I threw myself into my Healer training, fully accepted the fact that I have workaholic tendencies, and became a confident, sarcastic version of the old me.

It was at the bar that we saw Draco Malfoy for the first time since the Battle of Hogwarts. No, that’s a lie. Harry saw him when he testified for Draco and his mother—the Ministry had wanted to throw the whole Malfoy family in Azkaban. Narcissa and Draco managed to escape that sentence through Harry’s testimonial. And I had seen him a couple of times at St. Mungo’s. While I had taken the Healer route, Malfoy had gone with the potion/medicinal side of Healing. Our interactions had, at that point, only been awkward and terse whenever I had to go fetch a potion or capsule for one of my patients.

That night, Ron had been telling some wildly fascinating story about some goal he managed to save and how it helped him score some bimbo after his game the night before, and as I rolled my eyes, I noticed a hooded figure coming in through the bar door. With the war still on the brain, my thoughts immediately jumped to the worst case scenario, that a rogue Deatheater was there to kill us all. But the figure lowered his hood, and the flash of platinum blond hair shone through the bar. Or maybe it was only that bright and significant with my whiskey googles. He had a stoic and unexpressive look on his face as he tried not to cause any disturbance with his appearance in the bar. He had literally entered willingly into the den of Gryffindor lions. I knew something was wrong almost instantly.

“Shall I get us another round?” I asked my table, ignoring the look of annoyance Ron threw at me for interrupting his description of his latest conquest’s nipple circumference. Harry and Ginny nodded their head in grateful agreement, so I made my way to the bar.

I plopped myself onto the barstool next to my former enemy. “What brings you here on this delightful Autumn night, Mr. Malfoy.”

Malfoy got a look of disgust on his face. “Ugh, for a second I was about to turn around and make sure my father wasn’t standing behind me.”

“Note to self: never call Malfoy Mr. Malfoy. I’ll remember that for the future.”

He smirked. “Are you saying that we’re going to have more contact in the future.”

I raised my finger to gesture to Seamus that I had a drink order as I said, “Well, I figure that since we’re going to become friends I should know what I need to call you.”

Seamus walked up. “Hermione…Malfoy.” He took a moment to hide his surprise. “What can I get for you?”

“Another round for my table, four shots of tequila and four limes while we wait, and…” I looked at Malfoy so he could put in his order.

“A beer would be grand.”

“And put it all on Ron’s tab! He’s boring us to tears over there and deserves to pick up the bill.”

Seamus nodded, slightly disturbed that we were being civilized with each other, and poured our shots.

I grabbed the small glass and a lime and gestured that Malfoy should do the same. “To what are we toasting tonight?”

Malfoy was silent for a second before he responded with, “To my father who received the Kiss not forty minutes ago. May he rest without peace in hell.”

He downed his drink, and after a few moments to collect myself, I copied his action, quickly sucking on the lime. “So is that why you willingly entered into a bar that is teeming with Gryffindors and other lowly houses?”

He smiled—yes, Draco Malfoy can actually smile. “I was hoping not to be noticed and I heard of the secrecy policy of the place. But I guess that not being noticed crashed and burned when Granger puts it to mind that she wants to make friends with her enemy.”

I smiled back. “I always get what I want. And besides, the second you put down your hood, any chance of you not being noticed was ruined.” I flicked a piece of hair that fell in front of his face. “Your strikingly sexy hair gave you away.”

He looked surprised at my forwardness. “Are you drunk, Granger?”

“Me? Drunk? Never.” Seamus dropped my drinks in front of me—a martini for Ginny, Firewhiskey for Harry, beers for Ron and Draco, and my Muggle whiskey. I grabbed mine, Ginny’s and Harry’s. “But grab those two beers and follow me and you can see how I act when I actually get drunk.”

He looked apprehensively at the drinks. “Follow you…to your table…But they hate me.”

“Pish Posh. The only person who is still holding a grudge is Ron but hand him his beer and tell him that he did well in his last match, and you guys will be bosom buddies. Or at least he won’t openly show that he hates you and will only mock you behind your back.”

I hopped off the stool and started walking back to our table, not stopping to make sure that he would follow me. I knew that he would.

“Look who I found lurking at the bar like a lost, forsaken puppy,” I announced as I put down the drinks in my hand. Harry and Ginny smiled up at my new friend, but Ron just glowered.

Malfoy handed him his drink while saying, “That was a good save against the Tornadoes last night. The way you dangled from the broom with one leg while managing to catch it between the two could not be copied.”

Harry, Ginny, and I detected the sarcasm and the slight dig at Ron’s abilities—him losing balance and catching the quaffle against his crotch was definitely not planned—but Ron ate it right up. “That move got me in with this smoking hot blonde…” And he was off, retelling the same story and the same description that I had left to get away from.

And during his story, I managed to catch Malfoy’s eye and when he gave me a slight smile, I knew that I had made the right decision in bringing him over to the group.

(End Flashback)

“Hermione!” Draco’s voice interrupts my reverie. “I know that you’re going through your self-loathing right now, but your phone is ringing and it’s disrupting my sleep!”

I hurriedly put on my bathrobe and open the door to the bathroom so he can hand me my cell phone. He had not acquiesced to my request and is still as naked as the day he came into this world. He pushes past me to get to my medicine cabinet to grab the second-to-last Hangover potion (Hah! I knew he had a hangover!). I push him out after he downs it and yell, “Put on your freaking clothes!” before I slam the door in his smirking face.

“Again?” Ginny’s voice sounds from the phone as I put it up to my ear.

“Oh don’t you start being condescending, Mrs. Potter. You’re the one who lets me go home with him.”

“That’s because he’s so obviously in love with you and I want you to get married and have lots of cute bushy-haired blonde babies.”

I scoff. “Draco is not in love with me Gin. We’re just…friends who periodically cash in on some benefits.”

This time a male voice scoffs from her end of the line. Of course Harry was listening in on our phone call. “Please own up to the fact that you and Draco are in a relationship already,” he says, his voice bright and clear through the phone, meaning that he’s taken me off speaker and it’s just me and him on the line. “You go on dates. He cares for you when you’re sick. He practically lives with you, for Merlin’s sake!”

“First of all,” I protest, “we do not go on dates. We go out to eat after work because we get off at the same time and we’re both bloody starving when we do. Secondly, he only stayed with me for that one case of the flu because some people were too busy to take the time out of their busy schedules to make sure their friend wasn’t dying of dehydration. And thirdly, he does not live with me. I mean, yes—he does call the guest room his room but he only stays there when he’s too drunk to floo or apparate home.”

“Or when you decided to shag him and then kick him out of your bed,” Harry responds. 

I’m about to make a snarky comment, but Draco opens the door before I can. Thankfully he’s put on his trousers from the night before, but is pulling on a T-shirt from the stash he keeps in his—I mean, the guest room. “I’m heading out to the store to buy some milk since you’re out and I’m dying for coffee. When I come back, I want to talk.” I silently nod my head. “Give my best to the Potter’s and have fun discussing me.”

“Another thing to add to the list. He goes out to buy things that you need. Now, please refresh my memory on how this all started.”

I huff and say, “Where’s Ginny? I want to talk to her. She doesn’t make me explain anything more than the actual shagging.”

“She’s gone outside with James and Albus. Now please, remind me so I can diagnose your problem.”

I roll my eyes, but acquiesce. “Well…”

(Flashback)

“Oh my goodness! I can’t believe we’re finished!” I exclaimed rushing towards Draco who was waiting with outstretched arms so I could jump into them. He spun me around in excitement.

“How’d your test go?” he asked, as he put me down and tucked a stand of hair that managed to escape my bun behind my ear.

“Bloody brilliant! The examiner said that, although he couldn’t tell me officially, I passed with flying colors. He even shook my hand and said, ‘Congratulations Healer Granger.’”

“Did you have Healer Crosby as your examiner?” I nodded my head. “He said the same thing to me, but as Healer Malfoy.”

After a year of friendship and hearing Draco complain about the potions duds that were in St. Mungo’s, I had convinced him to switch his training to Healing. Since he was a year behind, he had a lot of catching up to do, but with my help and many all-night study sessions at my flat, he managed to finish his training at the same time I did. We had just finished our Healing tests, the wizard equivalent to the muggle medical boards. If we passed, which we obviously did, we would be the highest level of Healers and would be able to practice on our own.

“To the bar to celebrate?” he asked.

I jumped on his back and pointed down the street towards the direction of Finnegan’s. “Onward, gentle steed!”

When we reached the bar, I whispered in his ear, “Can you come over tonight so we can celebrate by ourselves? I love my friends but they’ve never really understood how much this means to me and how hard it was to get here.”

“No problem, ‘Mione,” he replied, using the nickname that I only allow him to call me.

Once inside the bar, Harry, Ginny, Ron, and his bimbo at the time all took their turns buying us drinks to get us drunk in celebration. They offered their congratulations, made ignorant comments about how easy it must have been for us that made me cringe, and all too soon I wanted to leave. Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends enormously. But they never understood, even through Hogwarts, how hard I push myself to be the best and how much effort I actually had to put into the past few years of Healing Training.

Finally they said their goodbyes, and when Draco casually mentioned that he was not going back to the flat he shared with Ron, Ginny gave me a mischievous look that I didn’t know how to decipher.

Since neither of us were in a state to apparate, we had Seamus floo us back to my flat. Again, I got an undecipherable look from him.

“What is up with everyone?” I asked aloud and got a questioning glance from my best friend in response. “Everyone keeps giving me looks as if I brought you here to fuck or something.”

“Well, didn’t you?” Draco asks deadpanned, and after a beat of silence we double over in giggles. Yes, Draco Malfoy giggles.

“No, I asked you here so we can stay up all night by choice rather than necessity and watch Grey’s Anatomy to celebrate the fact that we’re doctors. And to help us accomplish this goal, I’m going to make coffee.” I walked into my small kitchen to put the coffee maker on. Although I could’ve made it quickly by magic, doing things the Muggle way has always given me a small sense of comfort. Draco came in and pulled himself onto the counter where I was leaning against. “I can’t believe we’re done. We’re doctors. Actually doctors. All of that studying, all of those cram sessions, all of that work actually paid off for something.”

“Now I can actually sleep at my own place.”

I let out a lady-like snort. “Right, like you’re actually going to go back to your place. You practically moved in here this year. If I didn’t clear out the second bedroom, you would still be sleeping in my bed.”

“Oh please, you know you miss waking up to me every day,” he responded with a smirk.

“No, I actually enjoy being able to sleep without hearing your incessant snoring.”

“Take. That. Back.” He hopped off the counter and started walking towards me as I started walking backwards. I broke out in a run and he started chasing me around the flat. It lasted a few minutes, but he finally managed to grab me around the waist and tackle me onto the couch. “Say it. ‘Draco Malfoy does not snore’,” he commanded as he pushed my struggling hands into the cushions and straddled my waist.

I couldn’t say anything—and I know this sounds corny, but I was literally mesmerized by his eyes, which had widened and darkened under my scrutiny. Before I knew it, we were kissing like we only had minutes to live. Clothes came tearing off. Moans and expletives were heard. And eventually we were left trying to regain our breath, lying side by side on my living room floor. We didn’t even make it into the bedroom.

“What just happened?” I asked breathlessly.

“This is a total and complete guess, but I think we just had sex.”

I smacked him on his built chest, which I was now fully aware of. I couldn’t help but kiss the red mark that was forming on his pale skin. “Yes, I know that. But why?”

He took a moment to collect his answer. “It can be of no surprise to you that I find you very attractive ‘Mione.”

I raised myself on my side to peer down at him. “Really? Even with the bird’s nest that I have the misfortune to possess?”

He lifted his hand up to push the uncooperative curls away from my face. “That’s one of the sexiest things about you. And I know that you find me attractive because, how could you not, so it was never a question of why. It was a question of when. And I don’t regret it happening.”

I ignored his blatant arrogance and processed his statements. “Well, it can’t happen again.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because we’re not in a relationship.”

“Psht, who needs relationships? We can shag without the label.”

“You mean like…friends with benefits?” I asked with slight embarrassment.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,” he replied, lifting himself up to kiss down my neck. I was suddenly feeling very warm.

“Hey… Draco…can we cash in on those benefits again?”

He jumped back on top of me in response.

That night, the night where we stayed up for different reasons than having a Grey’s Anatomy marathon and where we only made it to my bed when the sun started rising, started our two-year “relationship”. Many nights were spent in his flat, my flat, on-call rooms at the hospital. But after our “benefits” were being cashed in almost every night, I called it off. It had become too much of a real relationship for me. Although things became awkward for a while, we were able to get back into the swing of our old friendship. But there were definitely times where we reverted back to our old habits.

(End Flashback)

Which Harry just loves to point out.

“Yes, I can see how calling it off worked out for you,” Harry cuts in with a laugh.

“Don’t blame me. It’s the tequila’s fault! You know how I get when a shot gets put in my hand.”

“Yes, because every time you’ve slept with him since you ended it has been caused by tequila shots. What about James’ birthday party? If I remember correctly, Ginny, you and I had a very similar conversation to the one we’re having now at brunch the next morning.”

“That night only happened because Ron brought Lavender.”

“What about Neville and Hannah’s engagement party?”

“That was due to the fact that I had no date.”  
“What about—“

“Shut up! I get it, okay? I like sleeping with him! I like being with him!” I yell to end all of his rehashing of all the times I’ve slept with my best friend since. “I love him,” I add quietly.

Harry doesn’t act like my confession is world-shaking. “So tell him,” he says simply.

“What if he rejects me?” I ask in that same quiet voice.

“He won’t. Believe me. And he’d be crazy if he did.” He hangs up before I can say anything else.

I spend the next few minutes standing in front of the mirror. Only Draco can put this spark in my eye. Only Draco can find my crazy hair sexy—every time I charm my hair into sleek waves, he removes the charm as soon as he can. Only Draco can put this smile on my face.

I hear the front door open and a whistled off-tune sound indicating Draco’s return. It’s now or never. I walk out of the loo, still in my sheets toga, and to the kitchen where Draco is putting all of the groceries that he’s bought away. He looks up from the bag that he’s digging in and says, “Oh good, you haven’t melted into a self-ashamed puddle.”

“You said that you wanted to talk?” I ask as I walk closer to him.

“Yes, I did. It’s about time that we talked.”

I wait for him to put the rest away—he had even bought food that he personally likes to stock my pantry. When he’s done, he takes a big sip of the coffee that he’s made in my coffee maker and walks into the living room. I’m positively dying from uncertainty.

Once he’s made himself comfortable on my couch, he takes a huge dramatic breath and turns to face me. Before he can utter a word, the words “I love you” escape my lips.

Instead of gasping in surprise or cringing in disgust, he waves off my words with his hand. “Yes, I know that already. I love you too. What I actually wanted to discuss with you is me moving in here completely. I packed my things before we went out last night so—why are you looking at me like that?”

He’s referring to my drop-jawed amazed expression that’s on my face. “Did you seriously just wave off my revelation like it was nothing? I told you I love you and you wave it off? Then you say you love me back all casual like we’ve said it before?”

“’Mione, I’ve loved you from the moment you dragged me to your table and my certain death that night at Finnegan’s. And you loved me since the first time you laid eyes on me.”

“Yes, because that’s true,” I reply sarcastically but then return to serious mode. “But you can’t treat this like this! This is a big moment! And asking to move in before we’re dating. That’s a little bold, if you ask me.” I cross my arms, as if I mean serious business.

“Again, I wave you off. In my eyes, we’ve been dating for two years. Now I was thinking that we can turn the spare bedroom into a library, put an extension charm on it to fit our books—stop looking at me like that!”

“What do you mean we’ve been dating for two years? You’re the one that didn’t want to label our relationship. You’re the one that wanted it to be friends with benefits. We dated other people in those two years!”

He holds up a finger to stop me. “Correction: you dated other people. Did I ever once go out on a date with another girl?” I shake my head no. “And I didn’t want to put a label on the relationship because it wouldn’t have been manly for me to declare my undying love for you the first time we shagged. So I made you think that there wasn’t a definition for our relationship, but we were, in fact, dating.”

He has a smug smile on his face so I know I need to say something to knock it off. “Well, who said that I wanted you to move in?”

Instead of the grin falling, it just got all the much bigger as he crawls over to where I had sat myself down at the end of the couch. “Well then, we’ve got a problem on our hands, because Ron and I sold our apartment so he could move in with Lav-Lav and I could move in with you, and everyone is coming here tonight to help me move my shit in.”

By now he’s hovering over me, my hands pushed down in the cushions, with him straddling my waist. “Why tonight?” I ask, peering into his grey eyes. “Why not now?”

He gets a predatory smirk on his face. “Because, Hermione Granger, I plan on finally and officially making love to you in our bed, in our room, in our flat for hours on end because you are mine.”

I can only nod my acquiescence before he does just that.


End file.
